The Valar
by Cant-Choose-A-Fandom
Summary: This is a story posted for Eldhoron's drabble challenge. Each chapter is a small drabble about one of the fourteen named Valar. The drabble about Estë (chapter 12) won first place in the contest.
1. Ulmo

**This is a story posted for Eldhoron's drabble challenge. Each chapter is a small drabble about one of the fourteen named Valar. Enjoy!  
**

Disclaimer: **That would be nice, but no. Also, the art is not mine either.  
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1\. Ulmo

Ulmo was bored. And this was never a good thing.

The Lord of Waters was aimlessly strolling through the bottom of the endless ocean, playing with the waves that followed his every command. Ossë and Uinen were away on a date at the shores of Beleriand Ossë so liked to spend all his time at, helping the elves, and the Vala was left alone. Well, not _alone,_ one could never be truly alone in the ocean, but Ulmo was bored, which was pretty much the same thing.

All around him, under the glistaring sand and into the darkest of caves in the most remorse places, dancing in the crystal-clear waters were all kinds of animals, floating around and keeping him company. Ulmo waved his right hand and played with the enormous body of water in which he was inside, making bubbles pop up, and watching them as they floated upwards, trying to break the surface and disappear in the sky.

Ulmo dwelt alone, no Ainur save his two faithful Maiar had gone with him, but he did not entirely mind. His realm of seemingly endless green and blue waters was filled with life, the life of the sea and he was content in it. He was content to spend his time with the creatures that lived inside it as he did, and sometimes he liked to blow his horns and make music, enchanting the sea with the sweetest of melodies. Ulmo rarely ever left his domain, only to attend the council of the other Valar and then only when very important matters had to be discussed. It had been a very long time since his presence had been required, and Ulmo was not the best at keeping the track of time.

A dolphin twirled happily around him, nudging him with his nose and Ulmo smiled, reaching out a hand to pet it. The dolphin squealed happily at the touch, and the fast and excited movements of his tail unsettled the sand below them. Ulmo watched the brown and yellowish granules rise and float among the clear waters. Then suddenly, an idea came to him and he moved his hand around, and the ocean moved with it, taking the golden granules with it and twirling them around with the movement of the waves.

The Vala thrust his hand upwards, grinning as he did so, until the golden granules of sand were everywhere around him like a cloud of fog. His eyes sparkled with a childish glee as he continued to play with the waves, making the sand float around.

It was hours later when Ossë and Uinen returned, that they found him sitting at the bottom of the ocean, playing with a tiny red crab in front of his newest creation.

"My lord," Ossë said, eyeing the huge construction in front of him, "what is this?"

"My dear Ossë, what do you think it is?" Ulmo smiled at the dumbfounded expression his Maia wore.

Behind him, standing proudly at the green and blue gleam of the crystal waters of the ocean was an enormous sand castle.


	2. Manwë

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2\. Manwë  


Manwë did not sign up for this. Any of this.

When his Father, The One, had allowed them to enter the world he wanted to build, it was to prepare it for his creation, the Children of Illuvatar. They were supposed to take the black empty space and create something beautiful. And then Melkor turned on them and decided instead that he wanted to rule instead of offer.

And so, wars broke among the Valar in the dawn of the world, before anything was fully created. Melkor was defeated and drawn back into his dark fortress, and then the time came for the First Children of Illuvatar to walk among the world. After many rejections, incidents, accidents and disappearances, most of the Quendi had been brought to Valinor.

And here they had thrived. They were taught of the crafts of creation, like smithery and arts and music. They built great cities to live inside in harmony, an generally, everything had been perfect. It had all gone according to his Father's will. And Manwë and the rest of the Valar loved the Eldar, and were content with the way of living.

But then came the first time that even the ideal and perfect, the divine was touched by darkness. The death of Míriel Therindë, wife of Finwë the High King of the Noldor, and mother of the most skilled Elf that had yet walked the shores of Aman. It was a subject that had unsettled not only the Quendi, but the Valar as well, and many councils and much debate there had been in order for a decision to be taken. Manwë could not understand why Melkor's shadow could reach them, how death could exist in a place of such bliss and divine power. Illuvatar created the Elves and gifted them with immortality. He gave them the inability to taste the bitterness of death, the cold, unknown fate that awaited the Secondborn.

In the end Míriel had been allowed to stay inside the Halls of Mandos, and then later she had been placed with Vairë to weave the tales of the House of Finwë in the Tapestry of Time. Her son, Fëanáro whom she had given all the strength of her spirit to, grew up to be the most skilled and talented among all the Eldar, and he was held in high regard by all the Ainur.

But then Melkor showed his true face, and killed Finwë destroyed the Two Trees and stole Fëanor's silmarils, which the elf himself had made out of the divine light of the trees. Fëanor then, enraged and filled with grief, swore the accursed oath, to kill Melkor to get justice for his father, and all his seven sons had sworn with him. Then he had led the elves that decided to go into exile in Beleriand. Manwë was grieved, but he could not forbid the Eldar to leave if that was what they wished to do.

Manwë sighed. The Firstborn Children of Illuvatar were proving to be more than he had bargained for. He hoped Men would not be quite so unreasonable.

It had been many centuries since the exiles had first left, fifteen maybe, Manwë did not keep a very good track of time. He did not need to. Time was nothing for an immortal Vala like him. It was though, a long time for the Eldar.

Therefore, he was greately surprised when he heard Fingon, the eldest son of Fingolfin and one of Finwë's grandsons, pray to him. He focused on the words, slowly growing more appalled at the situation the elf was in. He had been grieved at first, when his own brother had turned against him, but after the destruction of Yavanna's trees that had plunged Valinor into darkness, he thought that nothing Melkor did could surprise him.

But this... Manwë paled. His brother had indeed gone too far. Manwë was many things, but he was not pityless. Fingon had asked for help, and help he would get. The Lord of the Valar called Thorondur, the mightiest of his eagles, and bid him go and assist the grandsons of Finwë.

No, Manwë was a lord not without pity.


	3. Oromë

**This is inspired form a tumblr post from inkstranger**

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3\. Oromë

The elf was so much like him.

Oromë had been very surprised the first time he had met Tyelkormo, immediately recognizing the gentle and caring nature, accompanied by the fierce fire Fëanor had inherited to all his sons, although his mother's quick and violent temper was more apparent in him.

It was a sunny day, the first time Oromë met him. Tyelkormo had been but an Elfling, fashioning flower crowns while laying in the grass. He had been the last thing the Hunter was expecting to find in his forest, but the child seemed very excited to meet him. Tyelkormo expressed to him his love for nature, and told him how much he liked to come into his forest with blue eyes shining with so much excitement, that the Valar could do nothing more than smile at him.

He kept asking questions the _entire_ time, had it been someone else Oromë might have found it a little annoying, but Tyelkormo was so genuinely _trilled_ to meet the only other person who spent as much time in the forest as the Elfling did, and his questions were asked with genuine curiosity, eyes alight with such hope, and Oromë could not be bugged by him. Tyelkromo had tagged along with him for the entire day, and the Vala was able to observe, and be surprised, by how much alike this particular elf was with him.

Although he was a Noldo, Tyelkormo hated the forges as much as his father loved spending time working in them. He was the only one of the seven sons of Fëeanor who had inherited his grandmother's silver hair and the one most unlike his brothers in personality. Quick to give in to his fierce temper, Tyelkoromo was the kind of child that held ducklings in his pockets, and held conversations with the birds about the weather. He had also asked Oromë to teach him how to hunt, having no restrictions about asking the Valar.

By the time the silver light of Telperion started to shine brighter and Nelyafinwë came to search for his little brother, Oromë was serioulsy debating teaching the Elfling what he knew. Tyelkormo had much potential, and Oromë had seen in him a profound love for nature rarely found in one of the Noldor. At the end, he settled for giving Tyelkormo one of his youngest hounds, telling the Elfling to take care of him. The pup immediately took a liking to the Elfling, and although he looked a bit disappointed at being handed a test instead of the agreement for what he asked for, Tyelkormo seemed to like the pup as well. He called him Huan, something that Oromë found unexpectant seeing as his father was very fond of linguistics.

"Are you sure you want to name him Huan, Tyelko?" Nelyafinwë had asked, barely holding back an amused smirk, and Tyelkormo had insisted that he was certain, holding the pup closer to him, and Oromë had smiled.

He smiled again as the memory ended, focusing now on the scene in front of him. Tyelko had abandoned his shooting practice to play with Huan, who was bouncing excitedly around him. Or more precisely, Huan was distracting Tyelko's practice.

"No Huan, down- ugghh!" The hound that had grown to be twice Tyelko's size, jumped on him, and the silver-haired elf fell backwards to the grass. "No, bad dog, get off me!"

Oromë smiled as Tyelko uselessly tried to get the throw Huan off him. He had made the right choice.


	4. Varda

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4\. Varda

The stars were her best creation.

Varda had at first made the Two Lamps that Melkor had so cruelly destroyed, and the Sun and the Moon were also of her on making, but the stars were the one creation she favored most.

Yavanna had made the Trees, and for as long as they stood they were the most wonderous thing in Valinor. The golden light of Laurelin shunning brighter than the most beautiful golden necklace, blending in with the dim silver light of Telperion during the day. And when the night came, the small silver light shone brighter, until it seemed to the eye that everything its rays touched were tinged with silver, like the finest jewels of the Noldor.

Telperion Varda had loved more than Laurelin, for she rejoiced in the night more than the day, and she had always found silver to be a purer color than gold.

Eru's creations were awe-inspiring, more ingenious and perfect that any other could make, even despite some flaws. The flaws, if anything, perfected His creations all the more, and the Valar had done a great job in preserving the wonder in all the things that were His, shaping the world and preparing him for the Children of Illuvatar. The Trees had been Yavanna's ultimate creation, the most beautiful thing she had made that would be remembered until the end of the world, and so, the stars were Varda's best creation.

Varda had a great part in the making as well, and in the dawn of time, before the world, she had fought against Melkor and his destruction. She, first of all had seen his darkness and rejected him, and he feared her more than his brother, Varda was certain of that. Melkor had never been able to control light, while it was the very thing she was associated with. The very mention of her name was deathly to evil spirits.

When Melkor destroyed the Trees and stolen the last specks of divine light from the world, she had -as all the others- been greately greaved.

But the stars she created after... Millions upon millions of silvery lights up in the sky, like drops of color in an endless black canvas. They were small, but bright like the dawn, enough to illuminate the dark night.

Varda did not gloat -she never did- but she knew that what she had created was to take pride in. It was one of the most wonderous creations in the world and she knew it. How could she not, when everytime she turned her face to the night sky they were there, shining alongside Tilion.

Varda still remembered the day she made them, after all, the memories of Valier did not fade with time like mortals' did. She created the newer stars with the dews from the vats of Telperion, in preparation for Awakening of the Elves. It was the greatest labour the Valar had made since the beginning of Time, and the Elves awoke beneath the night sky and gazing up at her starts they rejoiced, and loved her out of the Valar most.

But the Sickle of the Valar, the ancient stars Varda had made were nothing compared to the stars she made out of the last light of Telperion after Melkor destroyed, yet again, one of their best creations. The world fell into darkness, and Varda was tasked with filling the world with light once again.

Therefore she took the remaining flower of Telperion and the fruit of Laurelin and placed them in vessels made by Aulë. Varda bequeathed to them such light and power that they outshone the ancient stars. She also established the courses of the Sun and Moon, filling with more light the canvas of the sky she so much liked, tasking Arien and Tilion with the task.

Initially she had purposed the Sun and the Moon to be in the sky together, but Irmo and Estë pointed out that she had deprived the world of night-time and the stars, which was still necessary for rest and sleep. They were right, of course, and Varda had noticed it immediately, even before they could, and she changed her counsel and altered the courses of the Sun so that it should spend a certain time hidden, allowing for the stars to be seen again.

It was better like this definitely, not that she would ever admit again out loud that Irmo and Ëste had been right. Varda was not arrogant, and she could admit her wrongs and correct them, but it was still a blow to her pride that Irmo and Ëste had pointed out a flaw in what she had made.

Varda was most loved by the Eldar, and she could not say that she was not touched by their choice. She always rejoiced in the hymns they sang for her, and she felt a ting of pride in her chest everytime. She had been particularly pleased when Samwise Gamgee the Brave had prayed to her, and she had answered his prayer.

The Valier looked up at the night sky, spotting the Star of Eärendil. She had made him a star, bright and pure, shining at the sunrise and the sunset; and at the War of Wrath, he had proved her choice right. Eärendil had passed as a legend when he had killed Ancalagon, the mightiest of Melkor's dragons.

The stars, Varda decided, were definitely her best creation.


	5. Vairë

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5\. Vairë

Vairë looked at the tapestry in front of her in awe.

The weaving was perfect, the colors bright and natural, the forms that appeared had a sense of fluid movement and their eyes sparkled with emotion you could almost feel; it was flawless. You could imagine the heat and desperation of the battle as if you were participating in it; the pained cris of the wounded and dying and the trimphic shouts of the victorious.

She wondered, not for the first time, why would a Noldo as skilled as Míriel forsake the life of her kind and instead choose this; to stay with the Valier forever and weave the sorrows of her descendants into magnificent tapestries that would grace the Halls of Mandos until the end of the world.

The Valar were supposed to be the beings of highest power in this world, to whom Eru spoke guidance, wise beyond their years and immortal, unperishable for as long the world still stood. But they, most of all had been perplexed with Míriel decision to depart the world of the living and much debate there had been on what the best course of action should be.

Even Ulmo had come to participate in the councils of the Valar, and many years had past before they had reached a decision. Many had been against it, thinking that if immortal life had been Illuvatar's gift to the Quendi then Míriel should not depart from the world of the living. In the end, they had allowed the silver-haired High Queen of the Noldor to stay forever with Vairë and weave the tales of the world.

Looking at what Míriel was working on, a piece that showed the death of Fingon, Fingolfin's son, and Vairë could almost feel that she was standing in front of the gloating Balrogs instead of being confined inside the Halls of the dead.

Perhaps, everything happened according to Eru's plan.


	6. Nessa

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6\. Nessa

Nessa danced around in the green grass, moving her body with grace and elegance. Her light green dress twirled around with the movements of her hips, curly chestnut hair whirling around her face like a halo. Bare feet danced on the grass, the feel of the soft and slightly wet material making her smile.

There was no music, but then again she did not need any music. The rustling of the leaves, the light wind and the merry musical voices of the birds as they flew and settled in the trees were enough.

The song of nature was the best music she could dance to.

The faithful deer that always followed her was sitting just a few meters away, but more animals had gathered to watch her dance. Yavanna might be more close with the trees and the flowers, but Nessa had always loved the animals most. The forest would be quite empty without its inhabitants, and as beautiful as nature looked on itself, it was half in the absence of life within it.

The bright light of Laurelin illuminated the woods, making flickers of gold appear on the leaves, tricking the eye into believing the trees had been laced with pure gold. Nessa continued to dance to a music only she could hear, even as the golden light dimmed and gave its place the silvery brightness of Telperion.

Nature, the Valier knew, did not change with the change of light, yet the same forest looked so different. Much as she preferred the golden light of the day, the beauty of the forest did not lessen in the silver of Telperion.

It looked just as bright and beautiful, and Nessa continued to dance until all the animals around her fell into a deep slumber.


	7. Námo

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7\. Námo

To say that Námo had not been expecting that would be an understatement.

Námo had been the Doomsman of the Valar and the keeper of the Halls of the Dead since the beggining of the world, and he had seen many things. He had seen kinslayings and horrible deaths, famed deaths in battle and Eldar fade from sorrow, but never again had anyone knelt in front of him and sang a song of such power.

The song she sang was as fair as her beauty that outshone all the other Eldar in the Halls, and filled with such profound sorrow that Námo was certain none other like it would even be heard in the confines of the world. Listening to the fair singing the Valar was grieved, and as Luthien shed her tears and let them fall to his feet like rain, the stoic Valar was moved to pity; he who never before had been so moved, and would never again be.

For Luthien sang of not only her own sorrow, but the sorrows of the Eldar and of the grief of Men as well, the Firstborn and the Secondborn Children of Illuvatar.

And so Námo summoned the spirit of the deceased Beren, who Luthien loved more than anything, but Illuvatar's gift to Men had been death, and Námo had no power to withhold the dead spirits after their time of waiting, nor could he interfere with the fate of the Children of Illuvatar.

Therefore he did something not very common of him and went to visit Manwë to seek for council. The Lord of the Valar asked Eru for guidance, and two choices were given to Luthien, daughter of Melian.

The Valar could not withhold death from Men for it was Illuvatar's gift to them, and so Luthien chose to be mortal with Beren, forsaking her immortality and the chance to dwell in the land of the Valar until the end of this world.

Just like with Míriel, Námo was once again perplexed by the choice of the elf, but Luthien and Beren were happier than ever and it did not even cross their mind that this could ever be a wrong choice.

The minds of the Quendi, Námo decided, were a very strange place.


	8. Aulë

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8\. Aulë

Aulë did not remember ever being so grateful.

He knew that his decision to create something alone was foolish, for none could give life to things like Illuvatar could. His creations had turned out a whole lot different that he had intened, but still he loved them, and was very grieved that he should destroy them.

But Eru, always merciful and kind, had allowed them to be a part of His creation and he had adopted the children, however he ordered that the Quendi, the First-born had to come into the world first. Aulë did not disagree. He was far too grateful that his creations were accepted to dwell on when they would walk the world.

He had been impatient, he knew, and it was wrong from his part, because he had been desperate for pupils onto whom he could pass his knowledge when he already had those. The Maiar that worked with him in the forges were skilled and talented enough -Mairon the most among them-, but they were Ainur just like he was, and there were not many things to be taught that they had not already mastered.

He created the Dwarves and gave them a new language he had created for them, but he knew not what the Children of Illuvatar would look like, so he created the Dwarves to his own design, and made them strong and unyielding and not willing to endure the domination of others. They also turned out to be a bit shorter than he intended, but that was only a small flaw.

Well, that and the fact that Aulë, skilled in crafts as he was, could not give his creation independent life an they would only act when his thought was on them.

He had repented when Illuvatar spoke to him, and answered truthfully that he wanted nothing else than to have other beings to love and teach, with whom to share in the beauty of the world. Eru had been merciful and kind enough to grant his wish, and Aulë was greatly relieved.

There was now, only one problem that remained. How was he going to tell Yavanna about this?


	9. Yavanna

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9\. Yavanna

Yavanna always remembered Aiwendil as he was now; sitting in the green grass of her garden in Valinor, with a crown of colorful flowers sat atop his brown head, whistling to the birds in the trees and singing with them, his golden smile as bright as Laurelin's light.

Truly she did not think that she had ever seen Aiwendil do anything else, except perhaps the occasional talks he had with Olorin, but those too, took place in her gardens more often than not.

"Aiwendil." Yavanna greeted the Maia as she came closer to him. "I am starting to believe that you are a permanent resident in my gardens, not even Mairon stays in my husbands forges so much."

"Lady Yavanna." Aiwendil greeted with a kind, shy smile. "Your gardens are, in my opinion, the best place in all Aman."

Yavanna smiled. "Should I assume that you spend your time nowhere else then?" She asked.

"Well," Aiwendil started, his brows furrowing as he thought it over. "The forest of Lord Oromë and Lady Nessa is a very nice place as well. Lots of trees, and so many talkative animals. One time my Lady, I spent the whole day sitting under the trees with a rabbit that was voicing to me his complaints about how the loud running of Lord Oromë's horses always interrupts his sleep. It was a very enlightening talk."

Yavanna smiled. Only Aiwendil could do that and genuinely consider it his pleasure. The love he had for nature always delighted her, for she could see her own love for nature reflected in his. They both, grew the same respect for the trees and the animals alike, and she had long ago discover that he was the only one who could sit through any of her rants, or listen to her every new idea about flowers and give her advice.

Her husband might have a bunch of Maiar working passionately in his forges, but Yavanna had Aiwendil, and truly, she needed no other Maia to help her. Aiwendil was enough. A bit absent-minded perhaps, but enough.


	10. Nienna

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10\. Nienna

Nienna listened to the silver-haired elf before her.

Celebían, daughter of Galadriel, had come to Valinor, and more precisely Nienna's gardens, to seek the healing she could not fine in Middle-earth. When she had first arrived she had been carrying with her many sorrows, and her soul was tired and grieved. Her body borne the physical scars of torture that had long ago faded to faint white lines running across her pale skin.

Now she was better, much better than she had been. Currently, she was telling the Valier about the children she left behind, and how they must be tormenting Elrond, her husband, with their mischiefs.

"Elladan and Elrohir had always been mischievous as little children, and when they came off age not much changed; they managed to get into even _more_ trouble if possible. I cannot even imagine how they must be tormenting poor Elrond, somehow always coming back with Legolas with some injury or another." Celebrían said. Nienna smiled, gesturing for her to continue. "Arwen had been a far more peaceful elfling than those two! O Arwen, she was so little when I left..." Celebrían's entire demeanor suddenly changed swiftly, her hesitant smile turning into an exression of sorrow and regret. Nienna who had now grown accustomed to this stepped in.

"Do not regret you choice to come here." She advised. "Your daughter knows that you needed healing and she understands your decision to sail, as did all your family. She has already forgiven you, if there was ever anything to forgive."

Celebrían smiled sadly. "I am just so worried about them. I know that the twins were the ones that rescued me, but the world is still dark under the shadow and bad things could still happen. They could get hurt."

Nienna gave the she-elf one of her warm reassuring smiles. "The world is now indeed under the shadow of Sauron, and filled with many horrors. Full of peril it is, and it is not impossible that your children might get caught in its darkness." The Valier reached out and put a comforting hand on Celebrían's shoulder. "But there is also light and hope and happiness that our children will experience. There is danger, yes, but there is also hope. You must not lose it."

Celebrían nodded, and her frown lessened just a little.


	11. Irmo

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11\. Irmo

Irmo had always loved sending dreams. Especially weird dreams.

It has his favorite job as a Vala, because he could create dreams that did not make sense. Of course, most of the time, the dreams he sent were not meaningless, even if their meaning was hard to decipher. But once in a while, he enjoyed sending random dreams that held no purpose.

The confused elves that tried to make sense of the random images and memories he sent them were always more than entertaining.

He did not torment them, never; Irmo was not cruel. Just some stray, aimless images, random memories stringed together. His favorite one was of a dream he had sent to a Sindar elf in the Second Age, during the Watchful peace. It was nothing more than some images of the forest, with a strong smell of his mother's home-baked apple pies and his childhood house. In the end, the elf decided that Lord Irmo was telling him to visit his mother, and it had been a laughable coincidence that she had been making apple pies that day.

Estë rolled her eyes at him when he broke into a fit of laughter, and muttered something about how he was too immature to have been given such an important job, but he could swear that a smile danced in her blue eyes.


	12. Estë

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12\. Estë

Estë had never done this before. Mainly because no one had ever died before.

Míriel Therindë was the first of the Children of Illuvatar to die. To specifically _choose_ to die. It was something that had greatly shook both Valar and Elves alike. They had assumed everything; her death being a part of Eru's greater plan, to her life and skills being passed down to her son making him a source of great potential, to the first sign of the darkening of Valinor; although none said this to the Quendi.

So now that the High Queen of the Noldor was officially and undeniably dead, Estë had been tasked with tending her body.

It was far too easy, and that unsettled her. She cosseted the woman's pale form, applying some sort of substance she created to the viewable areas of the body in order for it to maintain its appearance. She dressed the Queen in a beautiful long dress, green with silver linings like the leaves of Telperion. She made an elaborate braid on the silver hair, simple but beautiful, keeping the strands away from her face. Míriel's blue eyes were closed, never to open again.

Treating a dead body had been far too easy for Estë's liking, and it made a shiver run down her spine.

It shouldn't have been that easy. It should have been hard.


	13. Tulkas

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13\. Tulkas

When the trumpets sounded, the only thing Tulkas could think was _finally._ They were _finally_ doing something to stop Morgoth.

The armies marched into Beleriand with the Valar on toe, ready for battle. It had been such a long time since he had last participated in a war, or even a battle. He knew that peace was far better, he believed that, but they had not been at peace. They had been at war, they just did not do anything to end it. Elves were being killed, captured and tortured by Morgoth and his servants in Beleriand, and the Valar were sitting in Aman with the Vanyar, ignoring it.

It felt good, to finally _do_ _something._


	14. Vána

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14\. Vána

Vána was walking through her husband's forest, barefoot and covered in flowers, the golden light of Laureling shining on her hair. The birds were singing, harmonic music at the ears of the Valier, and all the flowers sprang open when she glanced at them. Arien was tending the golden flowers of her gardens, watering them with the bright dews from Laurelin, and so Vána had found a chance and slipped away. If the Valier saw Arien smirking knowingly as she left she did not show it, and Arien pretended she had not seen her.

Her bare feet touched the grass, the green strands tickling her; and flowers sprang where she had walked. They were small and timid, but beautiful nonetheless; white like the color of the clouds.

Vána sat down on the lowest branch of an oak tree, seemingly ignorant of the tall shadow behind her. She twirled her golden locks around her fingers, her toes playing with the grass she barely reached. Two strong hands grabbed her suddenly by the waist, and she smiled, turning around to face the Vala behind her.

"How did you know it was me?" Oromë asked, brown hair falling loosely down his shoulders.

"You need to be more stealth, my love." Vána replied, and laughing at Oromë's frowning face.


End file.
